


Mantra

by cat_77



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Alec Lightwood, Background Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, F/M, Injury, M/M, Parabatai Bond, Supportive Magnus Bane, self-harm via lack of self-care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 23:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16922298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_77/pseuds/cat_77
Summary: Train.  Fight.  Protect.  This is the mantra that was instilled in him so long ago.  He just didn’t know if it was enough anymore.





	Mantra

**Author's Note:**

> Magnus is High Warlock of Brooklyn because he should be.
> 
> * * *

Alec had been beating up the training dummy for nearly an hour before Jace appeared. He had started with a staff, the resonance of each hit reverberating up his arms, echoing in his elbows and shoulders as he varied between straining his muscles to steady the vibrations and working that much harder to amplify them. It wasn’t enough though, it hadn’t been for a while, so he switched to his fists, each blow bruising and cracking where he hadn’t bothered to tape. Train. Fight. Protect. The mantra his mother had instilled in him so very many years ago helped blank out the chaos of his mind, helped him focus only on his given task.

“Anyone I know?” Jace teased, and Alec paused to take a look at him.

His eyes were still sunken, his skin still sallow, and he listed to the side enough that Alec feared he would topple over if not for the pillar he had found to brace himself against. He was dressed though, even if it was only sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt that hung on him far more than it had a week ago when he wore it last. 

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” he asked, even though he knew precisely what answer he would receive.

As if on cue, Jace replied, “Been there enough already. Decided to spice things up with a walk.” He tossed Alec a water bottle and his discarded shirt, frowning when his aim was a good two inches off of usual. Alec caught them anyway, and downed half the bottle in appreciation. “Some of the newbies are about to spar; wanna go watch so we know who never to pair ourselves with?”

He smiled because it was expected, and took the stele from his parabatai as that was expected as well. The well-earned bruises and his split knuckles faded as if they had never even been there, and he tried not to frown at their passing.

He left the smaller, more private training area and headed for the larger one usually used for more group work. He found Izzy putting about a half dozen or so teens through the paces, Clary at her side. They varied between explaining and demonstrating, and he watched for weaknesses in them both, pleased to see his sister was back in top form and Clary was nearly there as well. She had been lucky, if the demon had been a few inches off it would have been a different tale all together, and that wasn’t even taking into account the likely fall from three stories had she not been able to steady herself at the last moment or the flames that had created the gaping hole in the structure in the first place.

He shifted his gaze to the newbies. Most were actively trying, one was actively not, and one wanted to follow that other’s example. Clary remained patient, explaining yet again what they should be doing. When that failed, Isabelle outright ordered them to follow her directions. They did, but haphazardly was an understatement.

With a sigh, Alec approached and took a small amount of almost pleasure in watching some of the recruits step back and fall to attention. Of course, the two that currently mattered did not.

“Underwood, isn’t it?” he said in greeting as he approached. “I knew your brother, and trained with your father. You’re better than this. Show it.”

The squirrelly blond damn near sneered before he remembered his place. Attitude radiated off of him, all the more obvious when he countered with, “It’s not like it’s a real fight. When are we going to do something that matters?”

“Every fight matters,” he replied. “Every fight, every lesson, every hour of training. Train. Fight. Protect. That is your mantra, or should be. A single swing might make the difference between life and death.” He tried actively not to look at Jace when he said that, tried not to think of how close they had gotten to crossing that very fine line such a short time ago.

The kid scoffed, as in actually scoffed. He knew Shadowhunters with attitudes and chips on their shoulders, by the Angel he was parabatai with the poster boy for such things, but this one may well make a challenge for the title. “What would you know? The Heads of the Institutes get to stay all safe and sound while everyone else goes and risks their lives to keep the peace...”

Alec had to remind himself that some Heads did just that. It was actually quite rare, but possibly the norm the young man before him had been raised with. It’s why Shadowhunters completed their training at multiple Institutes, both to learn more techniques and methods, and to find just where might be a good fit for them. He had the feeling New York may not be a good fit for Underwood.

He lowered his head for a moment and pretended to contemplate his choices. He then held out his hand and didn’t have to wait long before a staff was placed in it. There was a chorus of low profanity from a few of the older hunters that had been spying in, a murmur of anticipation from others. It was Clary though, who pointed out, “He’s half your size, Alec.”

“So are you,” he smirked. There was no humor, only resignation. The only way to get through to the kid was going to be by force. As the Head, it was up to him to implement that force when necessary and he knew the kid would resent anyone else who tried. With that in mind stepped into the rapidly clearing center of the room and knew all eyes were upon him. Louder than before, knowing he had an audience, he said, “We battle demons in all shapes and sizes. It’s skill that makes the difference, nothing else.”

Underwood stepped forward, a bounce in his step. “So I get to kick your ass and then what? You write me up?”

“No writing up when I’m the one asking you to spar,” he promised. Then, because he was Jace’s match for a reason, he added, “And probably no kicking of my ass.”

The first blow was expected in that it came before any announcement to begin. He parried easily enough, and in fact made it a point not to attack. He let the kid work out his aggression because, really, he was not one to talk about that sort of thing. Eventually, his opponent lost his temper and shouted, “Are you going to make your move or what?”

So he did. And he took a thirteen year old down in approximately ten seconds, most of that because they had just taken a step back from each other. He didn’t hurt him, not really. He’d have two bruised knuckles, maybe a bruise on his ass, and a lot of hurt pride, but nothing more.

He tossed his staff back to Izzy to put away and announced, “This isn’t about showing off, it’s about-”

His words were cut off when a different staff smacked him right across his side, rear ribs defenseless as he had been stupid enough to turn his back on an angry teenager. He stepped into it instead of away, grabbed the piece of wood, and flipped the kid to the floor again before he let it drop and bounce off of him as further insult to injury. He would have thought that would be the end of it, but then he remembered it was the quiet ones who were usually far more dangerous than the boisterous ones, and turned just in time to see Underwood’s buddy attack.

Whitewater must have grabbed the blades from their place on the wall while he dealt with Underwood. Regardless, he had them now and surged towards him. A motion, and he ordered Jace and the others to stay back. Another, and he got an arm under a rather wide opening and smacked upwards, one of the daggers falling to the floor with a resounding clank. He could have picked it up himself, but he knew he would risk actually hurting the idiot when his instincts took over, so instead he worked on disarming him and tossing him to the side to join his already fallen friend.

Still not knowing when to stay down, he moved to push himself upwards, only to find Izzy’s staff firmly pressed against his sternum. “Are you really that stupid?” she asked. He didn’t know if she expected an answer.

Alec willed his heart to calm and his voice to sound steady and dry when he ordered, “Send them to the Infirmary to be checked. Underwood gets to learn about ichor duty beginning tomorrow, and Whitewater gets to learn how to clean the holding cells. We’ll reevaluate once they have those tasks down.” 

He turned on his heel and walked back towards his neglected office, vaguely hearing Clary and Izzy try to regain control of the last of the session. He wasn’t surprised to find that Jace had followed him, barley through the doorway when he heard, “He should be in one of those cells, not cleaning it, and you know it.”

“He’s young and stupid, two things we both know a lot about,” Alec replied. He pretended to sort through some files on his desk and stretched against the ache in his side with the motion. “We’ll see if this is enough. If not, there’s always more options.”

“At least put it in his file?” Jace tried.

“Kind of have to with as many people who just saw this little stunt,” Alec sighed. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose and pointedly ignored the way his shirt sleeve stuck to his arm with a thin trail of wetness. At least it was black and barely noticeable, the sliced fabric held together with his own blood, otherwise he’d have everyone on his case for that as well. “I promised Underwood I wouldn’t write him up for the sparring, so it’s the insubordination only. Whitewater I haven’t decided on. They’re unprepared for what they’re going to face. All of them. If we can teach them... maybe they’ll actually have a chance at survival, and maybe that survival won’t be at the cost of an ally.” He didn’t say he meant far more than the new recruits, nor did he really care if Jace picked up on the undercurrents at the given moment.

Jace echoed his sigh and slumped against the doorway. It was clear he was barely ready to be on his feet, even if Alec couldn’t feel anything beyond a vague tiredness through their bond. He hadn’t since the incident, and wondered if Jace was actively blocking him, or something else was at play given the demonic source of the event. At the very least, he hoped his own frustrations were similarly dampened so that his parabatai didn’t have to cope with those atop his own. “Just don’t feel like you have to beat up all of ‘em to make your point?” said parabatai added belatedly. His attempt at humor was weak, but Alec let it slide as he was clearly not at his best at the moment.

“Go get some rest,” he told him instead. “Before Underwood thinks you look like his next target.”

“I’d kick that kid’s ass,” Jace said around a yawn.

“Yeah, if you could stay awake long enough,” Alec agreed. He made a shooing motion towards the door and Jace reluctantly shuffled off after a less than proper salute.

He sat at his desk for a while after that, not working and decidedly not thinking. Thinking would mean he would have to deal with yet another disaster in the making, yet another potential person under his command far too willing to throw himself into danger, yet another person he had to try and possibly fail to protect. Thinking also meant he’d have to reach for the stele at his side to heal the next layer of wounds when the first ones were barely gone, and he wasn’t ready for that yet either. The ache grounded him, kept him in the present instead of letting his mind drift too far into the past, or worse yet, the potential future.

Thankfully, or possibly not, it was less than two hours later when he saw the alert flash up on his screen. Demon attack. Four of them, actually. The patrol teams had been hit and had taken down their attackers, dutifully reporting in the specifics. He knew the type though, ghorland. The queen sent out foot soldiers to weaken the enemy, then made the true attack, one that could last for days if they didn’t stop it. She’d be vulnerable at the moment though, her ties to her soldiers meant she was weakened with their deaths. Given the locations of those attacks, it was pretty easy to track down the likely location of her nest where she’d be creating the next wave.

He glanced at the roster. The four patrol teams were coming back in with their injured. Cleanup teams were out to pick up the pieces. Izzy had assigned an extra rotation of guards to the dorms under the assumption the kids would do something even more stupid over the night. That left very few people left to make the strike where and when it was needed.

He wasn’t calling Jace, that much was for certain. Clary was still recovering whether she admitted it or not. Izzy was on babysitting duty. Alec was itching for a good fight, one where he didn’t have to hold himself back, one where he could maybe feel something again, something other than the dull ache of black that had taken up residence in his skull.

With that in mind, he added a quick note to the log. Technically, he notified people where he was going and technically he left them to deal with their own current messes. He stood and stretched and slid both his bow and his quiver into place, a snap of his fingers activating the glamour that hid them from the world. A few strides and he was in Ops. A few more and he was out the door, long ago learning that no one questioned him if he moved with purpose.

It wasn’t until the sixth ghorland fell that he remembered the queen always kept a few minions back to protect her while she recovered. He got them though, and her as well eventually. He lit the nest to stop any of the hatchlings from becoming a threat of their own once they broke free of their casings and took a moment to breathe and assess and wonder why even this wasn’t enough to break through the dark fog that infused him.

He should have felt the adrenaline from the battle, the tiny cuts and nicks from the fight, the gash in his thigh from when he maybe purposefully got a little too close, a little too reckless, in an attempt to taste that little bit of elation that usually came from a good fight. Instead, he felt only his back colliding with the wall when one last minion, injured but not yet deceased, made a final attempt out of instinct alone, his queen’s guidance fading with her life.

A flick of his fingers, and an arrow materialized from his quiver. A jab upwards and the minion joined his queen and nestmates. 

He sat there for a moment, against the brick wall of the alley, surrounded by the gruesome aftermath. He looked to the mess of limbs and teeth and ichor and felt just the tiniest amount of pride that he had done that, he had accomplished that on his own. He ignored the voice that told him he could have done it quicker with backup, just as he ignored the voice that wondered if he would have been distracted by that backup and ended up costing them the battle as a whole. He also ignored the voice that repeated three familiar words in a familiar tone, their comfort long gone and replaced simply by white noise by this point, the absence of silence its own sort of reward. He focused on the pain instead. The injuries small and not so small, the ones from the fight and the ones from before. He thought of how at least he felt something, and how that was better than the alternative.

He paused and shook his head.

That... wasn’t right. Pain wasn’t a goal, or at least it shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t head off into a fight just to punish himself, nor should he debate pulling up the reports from the last few nights to see if there was anything else he could battle just to experience that feeling, that tiny bit of realness, one more time. He shouldn’t toss his stele to the side to resist the urge to use it, to heal himself, to take away the ache as at least it existed outside of his mind alone.

Part of his mind urged him to keep to the norm, to follow his instincts, but another part was louder. Barely, but he heard it. It was a different voice, familiar and welcome, urging him to let him in, to let him know when things were too much, too overwhelming, too dark. It was a voice that hinted that maybe he had already reached that point hours if not days ago.

He yanked out his phone, thankful for the nearly indestructible case Izzy had found him, and dialed a number he knew by heart even if it was usually his most recently used contact. As soon as the ringing stopped, before the voice on the other end could speak and break the spell he had set over himself, he blurted, “I think I need help? I think... I think it got bad.”

He barely heard the rush of assurances, the questions of where he was and if he was okay. He tossed his phone to the side, not even sure if he disconnected or not, and covered his face with his hands to try to hold in the sobs that threatened to break free. He might have wanted to feel, but not that, not now. He had failed enough for the night, he told himself, but even he didn’t know if he meant by the damage or the asking for help.

There was the click of heels bare seconds before he felt the familiar rush of energy from a portal. Both made him raise his head, confused at the multiple stimuli.

“Alec?” Izzy called from the far end of the alley. “We tracked the nest right before there was a flash and it’s signature disappeared. Please say you weren’t dumb enough to take it on alone?”

He glanced over to find her, Clary at her side, weapons at the ready, a team behind them to serve as backup. He knew he didn’t actually need to answer, the sheer number of beasts run through with arrows doing the job for him. The ghorland didn’t just fade into dust like the majority of the demons they fought.

He pushed himself to his feet, or as much as he could manage given his current multitude of injuries. He glared at his sister since he knew she wouldn’t take it personally. “You are supposed to be watching the rookies,” he accused. His back was braced against filthy brick, but he’d like to think he looked remotely authoritative. He turned to Clary and actively tried to soften the expression when he said, “And you are supposed to be resting and recovering.”

Izzy rolled her eyes like he knew she would. “I brought the rookies with to see a real patrol, well, the ones who didn’t get grounded. James and his team are backup so that they don’t get too adventurous,” she explained. He narrowed his eyes to focus them and saw the wide eyes of the teens as they took in the aftermath of what he had done alone. “The queen should have been weak, but protected, so it would be easy enough for six full Shadowhunters to nuke the nest and give the kids a show on how it’s done.”

“Did you really just take on five ghorland? And the queen?” James guffawed. “Six beats my best of four, man.”

“Seven,” Clary corrected. She pointed to the one with the arrow stabbed through its head closest to where he had sat on the drenched pavement and shook her head. “Really, Alec?” She had her hands on her hips now, hilts of her blades braced and at the ready though because she did have some self preservation despite how much he mocked her otherwise. He was also pleased to see only runes and pale skin on her bare arms versus what had been there such a short time ago.

“You’re crazy, sir,” James muttered, and Alec was too damned tired to tell if it was in appreciation or distain.

“Wait, you mean his warlock didn’t help?” one of the kids, Meadow-something-or-another, asked doubtfully.

Magnus chose that as his cue to join the debacle. “Seeing how ‘his warlock’ just got here, no,” he confirmed. Alec couldn’t help but to glance over at him, but quickly looked away when he found far too many emotions written across his face, hidden from most but screaming as if made of obnoxious neon to him. He was being assessed, judged, and he didn’t want to know if he was to be found lacking.

“But his warlock is going to make him go tend to his injuries while we show the newbies how we clean up a mess like this,” Isabelle announced. On the one hand, she was giving him an out, on the other, he could read the worry coming off of her in waves and knew there would be a discussion in their future. She started barking out orders and he knew enough not to question them, even if technically he outranked her. Pissed off little sisters always won.

Clary handed him his discarded phone and his stele while Izzy had the others distracted. She looked like she wanted to do something stupid like give him a hug, but relented at whatever she saw in his expression. He wasn’t ready for that amount of emotion, not yet. Instead, she placed a gentle hand on his arm just below his bruised shoulder and whispered, “Let Magnus in? Even if you don’t let us? I’ll work on Jace.”

He closed his eyes, just for a second, and when he opened them again she stepped back to be replaced by one very worried boyfriend. At least he was a very worried boyfriend who understood more than an inkling of Shadowhunter culture, as he nonchalantly slid the hilt of Alec’s seraph blade back into his holster and handed him his bow even if he shouldered the quiver himself. “Shall we?” he asked, worry and hope and comfort all wrapped up in those two little words.

At Alec’s nod, he opened a portal with an absent wave of his hand, much to the delight of the gathered teens. Knowing he had an audience, Alec did his very best to stand tall and not limp as he took the few steps towards it. As soon as he was through though, as soon as he saw the loft and smelled the familiar scents of herbs and leather and constantly brewing coffee, he collapsed in a heap, barely making it to the couch, too damned tired to care anymore, even if a small part of him was grateful that the portal closed before there was any risk of anyone following and seeing his failure.

He felt hands on him, first patting him down and then hovering above him. He felt the telltale tingle of magic, seeking out but not yet actively healing his wounds, not taking without permission. “How bad?” Magnus asked as he crouched beside him.

“Which part?” he countered, knowing he was stalling, but also knowing it’d be allowed for now.

“Preferably all of it, but let’s start with whatever you’re willing to share and move on to why you called me,” Magnus replied.

He took a deep breath to focus, to tell himself to think of it as a status report if need be. That in mind, he dutifully read off his injuries, tone bland and official. He watched as Magnus mentally cataloged them all, eyes tracing each as he spoke of them, whether fabric or skin stood in the way.

“Demons are not known for their blade skills,” Magnus pointed out with a nod towards his arm. He hadn’t actually mentioned that yet, which meant his recitation had been superfluous. 

“Shadowhunters with chips on their shoulders are,” he shrugged in reply.

It was apparently the wrong thing to say as Magnus looked horrified, magic crackling at his fingertips. “You were attacked by one of your own? Can I assume the perpetrator is either in Idris or otherwise no longer a threat?” The farce of forced calmness started to crumble at the edges of his tone, anger edging in to take over instead.

Alec shook his head. “The perpetrator is a kid with a brother being investigated for split loyalties - he likes a wolf with ties to an unruly pack. I knocked him on his ass and put him and his cohort on some less than glamorous duties. As for whether or not they are a threat? That depends on them more than me at this point.”

The magic blinked out, but his boyfriend looked no less pleased. “Can I assume whatever led you to call me was something more than teenaged angst?” He rested a hand on Alec’s thigh, then winced in apology when he realized how close to the gash it was. He still didn’t offer to close it, not yet, nor did he force the stele into Alec’s hand despite the way he almost reached for it twice. He was letting him go at his own pace, for now, and it was much appreciated, even though Alec knew he would break down soon enough. The injury wasn’t deep so there was minimal risk, but it was nasty enough to need attention if it were to heal properly.

Alec threw his head back against the couch, hand coming up to brace his still injured ribs with the action. “Safe assumption,” he admitted, but did not expand.

“Can I assume you’re not ready to talk about that reason yet?” Magnus asked, softer now.

Alec closed his eyes, not sure if the dark was better or worse at the moment. “Safe assumption,” he repeated, softer, with far less bravado.

The hand that had been on his thigh reached up to cup his face and he gave into the urge to lean into it. He reluctantly tilted his head forward again and opened his eyes, expecting to see anger or worry or disappointment of some sort. He found only patience and understanding instead.

“I’m here when you’re ready,” Magnus promised. His thumb caressed his cheekbone, soft, soothing. “The fact that you thought to call... to ask... that can be one hell of an accomplishment for now.”

He bit his lower lip, and then ran his tongue over the imprint left by his teeth. “Just... tell me there’s more? I think... I think I need that right now more than anything.”

Magnus looked confused, and he couldn’t quite blame him. For all his mystical and magical powers, he wasn’t actually a mind reader as far as Alec had experience with. Knowing this, it came as no surprise when his next words were, “More of what? Or is it a than?”

He looked away, not quite ashamed, but not quite not. His focus, his drive, his very being had been the mantra imprinted onto him for so very long, a mantra he had eventually learned to fight against but every once in a while fought back that much harder against him instead. “Train. Fight. Protect. There’s more than that, right? Because to fail at a single one of those...”

Magnus leaned back and, for the briefest of moments, he was afraid of what he might answer, if his words would be mocking of the mantra or his inherent weakness for not being able to follow it. Instead, he assured him, “Oh, my angel, there is so much more to life than that. You can do those things, they can be your mission, your purpose if needed, but life itself? Is so very much more.”

“Tell me?” he asked, pleaded really, and hated the almost whine he heard in the words.

“Life is adventure and learning. Life is mistakes and forgiveness. Life is trying and sometimes failing and sometimes succeeding and sometimes you don’t know which you’ve actually accomplished. Life is touch and taste and sound and so many beautiful sights. Life is not really wanting to finish your vegetables and eyeing that piece of chocolate cake. Life is experiences, bad, good, and in between,” Magnus told him, all in a rush. Slower now, calmer, both hands bracketing his face as though afraid he would run away, he said, “Life is making mistakes, and then making up for them. Life is hurting, and finding joy to counteract that pain. But most importantly? Life is love, in all its forms.”

Alec blinked a suspicious moisture away from his eyes, the world around him unfocused and blurry as he tried to fit such a broad view into what was such a tiny slot of his experience. “And the dark?” 

“Life is dark,” Magnus agreed. “But life is also that sliver of light that can grow into so much more.”

“You just have to look for it?” Alec guessed, not sure if that was a task he could accomplish at the given moment.

“Or trust in someone else enough for them to help you find it,” Magnus agreed. His thumbs swiped against his cheekbones and Alec tried to ignore the damp coolness the action left behind.

Alec felt the corner of his lips quirk up, just slightly. “You’ll be my witchlight in the catacombs?” he guessed.

“I’ll be your flint, ready for you to use when you need it,” Magnus corrected. His own lips twitched and Alec ignored the way his usually perfect eyeliner was a little smudged. “Or possibly your torchbearer when you really need to make a statement.”

Alec huffed a shadow of a chuckle, then grabbed his side when it protested the action. He watched Magnus’ eyes narrow in concern, and relented, “I think I might need my stele. And an iratze or five.”

Magnus didn’t make any smug declarations of it being about time, he simply shifted back enough for him to activate what he needed. The pain started to ebb away almost immediately, but it left behind an emptiness in its wake. He slumped that much further against the cushions, the tension leaving him, but also taking a hell of a lot more along with it.

“Tell me what you need,” Magnus ordered, because that’s what it was. The solider in him wanted to obey, was trained to do just that, but the apathy was already winning.

“Nothing,” he answered, quiet and surly, walls already sliding into place. He hated it, hated keeping things from Magnus of all people, but it was his default setting after so many years of finding safety in the action. They couldn’t find you weak if you showed no weakness. They couldn’t threaten the things you cared about if you didn’t care about anything at all. That’s how the world worked, and knowing that was the key to survival. Not necessarily the most pleasant survival, but at least you survived.

Magnus looked him up and down with the forced blasé attitude of the unimpressed before he declared, “Clearly that is a lie. If you won’t tell me, I’ll simply have to guess.”

That struck a chord of fear in him for reasons he couldn’t place. Magnus dragged him upright and he simply followed as led, no questions asked. He wasn’t an automaton, there was a thread of curiosity to his actions as much as terror as to where they might lead. He found himself moving, on his feet and walking towards the bathroom where the water was already running. He couldn’t tell if his body was just giving into his boyfriend’s unspoken commands or if said boyfriend’s magic had taken control. Or maybe it was just him giving over that control, letting it rest in trusted hands for the briefest of moments so that he could reset and find the energy to start again.

He found himself stripped and expected a shower, quick and efficient to remove the unspeakable things that clung to him. Instead, there was a bath, filled with steaming water and soothing oils that tickled his nose as he tried to identify them. He got in when told to and didn’t want to admit how good, how right, it felt as he shouldn’t need such things when there were far simpler alternatives.

He reached for a washcloth only to have it swiped from his hands. “Let me,” Magnus told him, and he complied with an entirely different absence of thought than where he had been for so long. The washcloth was replaced with a ridiculous not-quite sponge and not-quite loofa thing that Magnus preferred. It was soft without being irritating against his still healing skin as it gently scrubbed away the blood and ichor and random debris from the alleyway. The water itself stayed clear aside from the lavish bubbles, all reminders of the night’s struggles disappeared to be forgotten.

Magnus even washed his hair for him. Talented fingers shaped his unruly mop into everything from mohawks to swirls to something that looked suspiciously like horns that he glimpsed in the partially fogged mirror across from him, each style broken up by a scalp massage that did its best to release yet another layer of tension. It worked, at least a little bit, and he reluctantly realized he needed to get out of the water that was still the same precise temperature as when he entered or risk his boyfriend lulling him to sleep only to magic him to the bed later.

He of course was not allowed to simply towel himself off. Magnus grabbed a ridiculously fluffy bath sheet and made a huge process of it all. Everything was treated to the same care, from the tips of his ears to the tips of his toes. He was then dressed in the softest pajama pants and a favorite worn sweater, not having realized he was shivering until he was wrapped in warmth again. 

He was led not to bed, but back to the kitchen after that. His chair was pulled out for him so he sat down at the table, favorite foods appearing out of thin air one by one until he showed an interest in something and reluctantly started to eat.

The entire time, Magnus had kept up a one-sided conversation about nothing and everything all at once. There was no emptiness because there was no silence. There was no getting lost in his own thoughts as he was programmed to pay attention to the ones he loved.

And he did love him. He knew this despite everything else. Despite the darkness, despite the fog, his love for Magnus was one true thing that hadn’t faded. He wondered if it was that love that helped him make the call. He wondered if it was that love that helped him survive long enough to do so.

“I haven’t seen you in three days,” Magnus commented as he twirled a straw in a still mostly full drink. For some reason, those were the words that brought Alec back to the present. “Since you left for that mission and then called me to say the others had taken a few hits and that you were going to remain at the Institute to make sure they stayed in bed. Can I assume that this... whatever it is... may have a source in that?”

Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the feeling of finally being safe, or maybe it was just the comfort of Magnus being Magnus, but he felt the last wall crumble and all the words, all the feelings of the last few days come tumbling out.

He told him about the mission, about the warehouse serving not as a nest but more of a colony of lesser demons. He told him about how he knew they should have called for backup but, by the time they realized what they were dealing with, they were far too surrounded to risk distraction. He told him how he saw Jace get knocked down, but rushed to where Clary had been thrown to the side as she was now short one weapon and surrounded by three of the damned things and he could feel his parabatai’s confidence through the bond. He told him how he covered her until she could get her feet under her again and use her stele to draw that sunlight rune of hers, burning away an even dozen if not more of the beasts. He told him how he watched as Jace sliced through what should have been the last two only for one final one to jump from the shadows right next to where Alec himself had stood and manage to jab its stinger deep into Jace’s chest. He told him how Izzy had taken the beast down while he stood there dumbly, feeling only pain and shock through their connection, unable to make himself move, unable to save the people he was supposed to protect.

Izzy and Clary had torched the place to make sure nothing survived while he hauled Jace to what should have been safety. A beam fell along with a good portion of the ceiling and a section of the floor, trapping the girls briefly before he and his sister managed to break through the barriers. Clary had been burned and bruised along with a decent gash from talons of unknown origin near the vital beat of her heart, Jace had been poisoned by the venom and bled so very much. They got them back to the Institute, but Jace was unconscious by then and Clary barely holding on. She gave in to her concussion around the time the medics swarmed Jace, and all he could do was stare and hope and be grateful he and Izzy only had scrapes and scratches in comparison.

Magnus had an arm around him by the time he finished. He didn’t cry, he was far too trained for that, not to mention the overwhelming numbness was fighting to return. He leaned into the touch though, tethered himself to the present that way in a sad attempt to avoid the past even if he had just been speaking about it. 

“It’s okay to be grateful that you are alive,” Magnus whispered to him. Possibly not for the first time as his drink now had far less ice and a much larger circle of condensation around it. “It’s okay to be grateful your sister is safe,” he said next. “It’s also okay to feel guilt that people you care about were injured while you were not. You did not cause those injuries and, from the sounds of it, you helped to stop far more than what actually happened.”

“It was right next to me, and I missed it,” he insisted. The image played over and over in his mind, and yet he never found an angle where he saw it before it was too late.

“Probably because you were concentrating on so many others,” Magnus countered. “You found a hive, the demons there would know it inside and out and you had been there for what, a matter of minutes before the attack began? It’s okay to miss things...”

“Not when missing them means someone almost gets killed!” Alec slammed his fist down on the table in his frustration and tried not to find comfort in the way the pain radiated through his wrist to his forearm. He had made a stupid mistake; it should have been him damn near bleeding out on the concrete, not Jace. And then he left a clearly injured woman behind to finish the job he himself could not, and for what? So that he could assuage his guilt by trying to get Jace to the Infirmary a few seconds faster?

He wasn’t sure if he said the last part out loud or if Magnus simply knew him too well. “You trusted two trained and determined members of your team to eliminate the risk while you took the most injured party for treatment. Could Clary have carried him? Or Isabelle? Even if they activated their strength runes, would they have been able to do so and still be ready and able to defend him if needed? Would your dear sister not have stabbed you with one of her stilettos had you even implied that you did not trust her to finish the job? You are a team, and you work together. The division of duties was sound and just and, I’m assuming, unspoken given how much you have worked together.”

“But maybe it would have been me with a few burns and them being safe and sound,” he said weakly.

“Or maybe they wouldn’t have been able to get Jace treatment in time, or Clary to the Institute before she passed out. Maybe your sister would have tried to go back for you, costing them even more time,” Magnus offered before he sighed. “There are far too many things that could have happened, many worse than what actually did. You said it yourself: a few burns, some scrapes and bruises. Yes, Jace was injured, but he is a trained warrior and this is neither the first nor last time that this will happen. It is not solely your fault. It is not any of your faults. Sometimes a fight has consequences. Sometimes you don’t get out of it unscathed.”

“Then why is he blaming me?” Alec whispered, and hated how weak it made him sound.

Magnus scoffed before he realized that Alec was serious. “There is no way Jace blames you for this,” he insisted. He must have taken in the doubt that poured off of him as he shook his head in mild frustration. “Did the idiot say something? Imply something? Why in the world would you think such a thing? You save him, he saves you, that’s how it works. At one point you two had a literal chart of who was winning.” Which was true enough, though the schematics had gotten more complicated when they started to add in family members and Downworlder friends.

“He’s blocking me,” Alec eventually admitted. He hung his head in his hands, exhausted. “I can barely feel him. I reach out, and there’s almost nothing there. It has to be an active choice. How else can you explain it?” And there it was, something he barely admitted to himself. He had screwed up so greatly that his own parabatai wanted nothing to do with him. This was rare, and happened in only extreme cases, usually with no way to mend the rift. The two halves simply continued on, incomplete shells of themselves that faded even more with time.

Magnus muttered something under his breath that he didn’t quite catch. Louder, he asked, “May I?” and made a rough gesture to where the parabatai rune lay on his side.

He nodded, curious as much as anything else. A wave of a hand, a tendril of blue magic that tickled, soothed, and warmed all at once, and then he had one very exasperated warlock reaching for his phone. “What is it?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Magnus did not bother with pretenses, nor did he bother explaining himself. He tapped his fingers impatiently and, when there was the slightest of clicks from the other side, he began his side of the conversation with, “Jace, you idiot, are you using an agnoshka charm?” There was a pause, followed by, “Of course he noticed!” Another pause and a huff of, “Who was dumb enough to sell you such a thing? How long? He deserves to be descaled for such stupidity and don’t get me started on your own.” There was a buzz of almost words, and Alec was tempted to reach for his stele to listen in properly before he heard, “Oh, please no. Knowing you, you will cause more harm than good. Are you in any state to travel? There will be a portal waiting for your in Alexander’s office in fifteen minutes. Do not make me have to come find you.”

Magnus tossed his phone down without even checking to see if he had disconnected the call properly. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like the words “stupid Nephilim” and then patted Alec absently as if to apologize or exclude him from such a declaration.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Alec asked, still not certain he wanted to know the answer.

Magnus spun in place from where he just stood and shook his head, his face a mask of frustrated exasperation. “No, I will leave that to your idiot brother,” was all he said.

“Magnus...” he tried.

The warlock in question simply shook his head as he continued to mutter. A snap of his fingers and he was no longer dressed in simple linen and silk, but dark leather, makeup a few shades more violent as well. “Just to make an impression on him, one of fear hopefully,” he said as an aside with a casual wave of his hand. He turned then and looked at Alec, really looked at him. “It should take two minutes, possibly less, to open the portal and drag him through. Can I trust you alone for that time?”

Alec resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and huffed an irritated, “Yes. But I want answers when you get back here.”

“And you shall have them, at least those that I can give you, I promise,” Magnus replied. He paused to lean down and place a gentle kiss on Alec’s furrowed forehead before he strode into the living room, the general air of intimidation around him growing with each step.

Alec listened to the quiet roar of a portal being opened and staggered to his feet to be there for the arrival. It took even less time than Magnus had estimated, but there now three people before him instead of the expected two. “Clary?” he asked, surprised.

Magnus clapped his hands in almost glee as the portal sputtered out. “It turns out that I did not have to drag him as his girlfriend did instead.” He gestured behind him just as Clary pushed Jace bodily forward towards his waiting parabatai.

Jace stumbled for about half a step, then regained his footing as he rubbed at his ear. “She literally dragged me,” he admitted, making a face. Behind him, the redhead made one of her own, pursed lips that matched the attitude given with her arms now crossed across her chest.

“Izzy would have come, but she’s watching eight juveniles so I took this one off her hands,” Clary announced, eyes narrowed at the blond.

Jace didn’t get the chance to respond or even glare before Magnus snapped his fingers and demanded, “Hand it over.”

Jace sighed, but dug in the pocket of his sweatshirt to produce a small bobble that Alec had never seen before. It looked like a rock of some sort, lines either carved or painted on it before it was wrapped with a flat grass-like twine. “I’m sorry,” he said before he even dropped it into Magnus’ waiting hand. “I didn’t think...”

“You so rarely do, but this time there was a cost for your ignorance,” Magnus interrupted him tersely. At Jace’s questioning look, he breathed out through his nostrils and less than patiently explained, “If the agnoshka charm was truly safe, don’t you think they’d be handing them out like candy to irritated parabatai?”

“So you were mad at me,” Alec guessed. He tugged a hand through his hair and started in on an apology, only to be cut off when the same words started bubbling forth from his counterpart.

“What? No!” Jace insisted, nearly shouting his objection to win the contest of who would be heard. Satisfied he was being listened to, he began, “Look, okay, it was stupid, yes, but... I was in a lot of pain, okay? The stinger left these barbs along with the venom and... whatever. The short version is that I knew you were already upset, with yourself as much as anyone else, and I wasn’t going to to add to that by you feeling what I was going through and blaming yourself.”

“So instead you blocked me off completely because that’s a brilliant solution?” Alec asked the air around him. Before Jace could answer that though, and given that he was opening his mouth like he intended to, Alec decided to ask a potentially more important question instead. “You haven’t left the Institute since the attack, where did you get this agnoshka thing anyway?”

Jace mumbled an answer far too low for him to hear. That was clearly intentional as he also ducked his head and started to turn away, right up until he realized what he was turning towards. Clary stood behind him, arms still crossed and clearly not amused in the least. She cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow at him, and he reluctantly turned back to repeat what he said, this time louder. “I said I got it from the library. Third case in, tucked behind a book on shielding techniques, if you want specifics.”

“And you knew it was there because...” Clary prompted.

“Because I put it there after I bought it off a shady warlock named Spade, okay?” Jace admitted, hands thrown up in surrender. “It was after that attack down by the docks. We took out a bunch of shax demons, which had apparently been after some doodad this guy had. You got sliced in the process and he saw me holding my side because I felt you. He told me he had something to help with that and I figured I could use it in reverse the next time I was grounded and you needed to get things done.”

Alec stared at him for a moment, not having the slightest idea where to begin with all that was wrong with what he just heard. Magnus apparently had no such problem as he raised a single finger and verified, “So let me get this straight: you bought an untested charm off of what you yourself call a shady warlock, never brought it to me to check to see if it was legitimate, and then used it counter to how this shady warlock told you to, and yet you are surprised that there are consequences to your actions?”

Jace ignored him, which was not wise given that the finger was now glowing, and turned to Alec to beg, “You’ve got to forgive me, right? You know my heart was in the right place. I’m sorry that it seemed like I was mad or intentionally pushing you away. I just didn’t want you to feel this on top of everything else.” There was a pause while he pushed his hair back from his eyes, eyes that widened and asked, “Why does your warlock look like he’s going to fry me?”

Once again, Alec found that he didn’t need to answer as Magnus was ready to do so for him. “You knew your brother, your parabatai, was upset about you being injured. Instead of reassuring him that you would be fine, you lied about the state of your injuries and used a dubious magical object to further hide the truth from him,” he seethed. “This led the self-sacrificing idiot that I love to think you rejected him because he failed to protect you which in turn led him to train himself to near exhaustion and then take some stupid risks so that he might not make the same mistake next time. And you wonder why any of us might be a bit peeved?”

Alec held up a hand before he could continue, needing to correct one very obvious detail. “But I did fail to protect him. The demon was literally right beside me, and I missed it,” he pointed out.

“Only because you had just saved me, and then got nearly blinded when I spun around with the sunlight rune,” Clary protested. She shook her head and said, “I was looking right at you and didn’t see the thing until the light faded.”

Magnus rolled his eyes and finally lowered his finger. “Hovath demon. Finds a colony of others and leaches off of it. Poisonous barbs and is cloaked by UV rays, only visible with artificial or indirect light,” he recited readily enough. He pinched the bridge of his nose before he shook his hands out and eyed each and every one of them. “Alec saved Biscuit. Biscuit saved you both but also inadvertently let one close in the process. That one nailed Jace and not in a fun way. Jace decided to be an idiot versus letting the repercussions of an honest accident play out. Is that the gist of it?”

“You left out where Alec felt guilty because I was dumb,” Jace sighed in defeat. He gestured to the rock Magnus still held and asked, “So, can you destroy that thing?”

“If used correctly, could there be benefits?” Clary cut in before Magnus could actually do it. All three men turned their gazes to her and, to her credit, she didn’t back down. “If one of them was seriously hurt and the other was, I don’t know, overwhelmed by it, that sort of thing. Would this charm or whatever it is block the pain enough for the non-injured one to do what he needed to do?”

Alec got what she was saying and, by the looks of it, Magnus did as well. There could be a reason to keep it around, if they were careful with it. It was probably what sold Jace on the thing in the first place. Of course, Magnus shot that out of the water with a derisive snort. “There are far better ways with far fewer side effects,” he promised. “The agnoshka puts up a wall of sorts between the connection. Parabatai One naturally sends out something, it bounces back and he feels it amplified instead. Meanwhile, Parabatai Two feels the absence of their natural give and take and will know something is missing.”

“And when that wall comes down?” Alec asked, fearing he already knew the answer. He also didn’t like the admittance that Jace’s own pain had been amplified by using the thing. Instead of having someone to share it with, he took it all on and more.

Magnus pursed his lips before going the blunt route and admitting, “It’s going to suck for both of you. Everything held back, on both sides, everything that built up, is going to come crashing back.”

“Spade didn’t mention any of that,” Jace protested. He looked worried, which made Alec question how bad it truly was going to be. 

“You didn’t ask and he already had your money in hand,” Magnus shrugged. “It’s a fairly standard warlock transaction, really. Though he and I will be having an intense conversation with regards to deals involving Shadowhunters, and certain Shadowhunters in particular.”

His eyes narrowed slightly at the end of his words, and Alec questioned just how intense and what the aftermath could be. Then again, Magnus was High Warlock for a reason. He kept the peace between Downworlders and Nephilim, as well as generally kept his own kind in line. He knew there was some give and take to the position, but he also knew that Magnus tended to take things personally, especially when those things involved people he cared about. He was lucky enough to include himself in that grouping, and he was fairly certain Jace was as well, whether or not either would admit it.

Without further ado, Magnus tossed the charm upwards where it was held in place by a faint blue glow. The charm itself shone a bright yellow from within, turning to an almost red hue where the marks were etched upon it. A blinding flash later, and it crumbled to dust that Magnus caught neatly in his still outstretched hand and then vanquished completely.

Alec felt the briefest of flickers across his senses, as if a piece he hadn’t even known was missing was slotted back into place. “That wasn’t so ba-” he started, but cut himself off as pain radiated through his body. It felt like his very skin was ripped open and sewn back together, an acid bath poured into the open wound before it could be fully closed. He doubled over, his own recent injuries reigniting and fading one by one until a dull ache permeated everything, every square inch of his being. 

There were hands on him, and he couldn’t be bothered to check who they belonged to as he was too busy trying to breathe again. He felt himself pressed down onto the cushions of the couch, which was fine given that he wasn’t sure he could stand on his own at the moment. One hand moved to his face, calloused instead of smooth, and he reluctantly opened eyes he hadn’t realized he had closed to find Jace huddled close, his own eyes filled with tears as he chanted, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Alec...” over and over again.

He waited until he could catch his breath, heaved a heavy sob of his own, and declared, “You were and still are so not fine, and if you ever pull this again I will kick your ass myself, whether you are bleeding out at the time or not.”

“That’s fair,” Jace sniffed in agreement. His hands shifted to wrap around Alec’s shoulders and pull him close. There, with his head tucked into the crook of his neck, he whispered, “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.” He thought his parabatai was still going on about the charm and the lying and the pain aspect of it all, until he heard, “Thank you for calling Magnus. I’m so sorry I was a source of this.”

Alec froze in place. It took his mind a stupidly long time to register the fact that Jace now felt what he did just as much as he felt him. While they could dampen and nearly block the connection as needed on a good day, this was far from one of those and the deluge caused by the breaking of the charm meant they had no barriers left between them. “I...” he started, having no idea how to explain the torrent of emotions that he had tried to keep under wraps for so long. The sense of failure, the lack of self-worth, the guilt, all of it flowed freely towards his parabatai without a thought, without a way to turn it off.

“Don’t have to explain a damned thing,” Jace finished for him. He sniffed again and Alec had the feeling his sweater was going to be covered in tears and snot, some of it not even his own. Jace pulled back slightly now though, eyes rimmed with red as he requested, “Just... tell me? Let me in? Give me some clue of what you’re going through so I can try to help? Even if that help is calling on your boyfriend who is apparently much better at this than I am?”

Alec huffed a chuckle despite the way his body still hurt to even move and despite the way he wanted to deny there was anything he was even hiding in the first place. There was no point in denying it now, not when he was pretty much emotionally flayed open to the person who held him tight and whispered more promises than either one of them would ever remember as he tried to tug him even closer.

There was a clearing of a throat beside them, and Alec glanced away to find a patiently-for-him waiting Magnus at his side. “Have we learned our lessons?” he asked archly. He then promptly rolled his eyes and said, “Probably not, which is why I need a drink. Any takers? Biscuit, you had to deal with this idiocy; are you old enough yet? Or should I portal the loft some place where you’re of legal age so you can join me in drowning this out?”

Clary snorted in an entirely unladylike way. It was followed by a surprised eep and Alec looked over to find a glass of something violently purple now in her hand. Unlike the first time Magnus had pulled that trick with him, she took a tentative sip, eyebrows raised and eyes blinking rapidly at the intensity of the flavors.

“Please don’t get Fray drunk, I don’t think either one of us could carry her back to the Institute right now,” Alec warned, which caused Magnus to pout and Clary to set her drink off to the side.

“None of you are going anywhere anyway,” Magnus announced as if he had control of such things. Given it was his loft and his wards, he may well might, but he didn’t have the tendency to keep Shadowhunters hostage, so Alec knew something else was on his mind. Sure enough, he downed most of what might have been whiskey in one go and set the glass beside Clary’s before he said, “If Jace is still feeling the effects of the hovath demon, there may be something I can do to speed up the recovery process. And before you think this means you are back in my good graces, Blondie, realize I’m doing this to help Alexander. He feels what you feel right now, and there is no reason for that to be pain.”

Jace finally let go of Alec fully, and flopped back onto the couch, arms spread when he said, “No argument from me.” He lowered his hands only to raise them again and stare at them, fingers rubbing together. He then stared at the couch itself and asked, “Is that blood?”

Alec glanced down and realized they had never cleaned the couch after his return to the loft. Magnus had concentrated on him, and not the ichor and gore he had left behind, and the cushions were stained with splatters of such. “Um, yeah, that’s from me,” he admitted. His parabatai started to admonish him, and then his parabatai’s girlfriend started to chime in with an admonishment of her own. It was then he realized that while Clary had seen him, she hadn’t seen all of his injuries before she sent him off with Magnus. “From the ghorland nest tonight,” he promised.

“Well, that and the young Shadowhunter you told me about,” Magnus tattled.

“He got you?” Jace exclaimed. “The little brat got you?”

Alec sighed. “Injuries happen in training all the time, you know that,” he reasoned. Of course, the fact that it had happened hours before and should have been healed long before he left for his illicit mission was something he preferred not to mention.

Jace shook his head though and now it was his turn to tattle, this time to Magnus. “Brat One was annoying enough Alec here took him down himself. Turns out Brat One was nothing in comparison to his buddy Brat Two, who took offense and came after him with live steel while he had his back turned and was unarmed.” He shook his head again and announced, “I’m going to teach him a lesson. One on one... Show him you don’t go after certain-”

“I’m not some damned damsel in distress!” Alec protested. It was loud enough to stop Jace in his tracks where he was trying to push himself up as if ready to attack right then and there despite his current state. “Hell, either is Clary here. Either one of us could have taken him down, and I did. He got in one decent hit because of luck and because he’s a trained Shadowhunter. It just means he has a higher chance of survival in the field.”

“He needs to learn respect!” Jace argued back, just as loud.

“Why? We never did,” Alec pointed out. 

Jace opened his mouth to argue against that as well, but ended up chuckling instead. “No, we never did, did we?” he agreed, eyes lit with mirth.

“If you two are quite done showing us why the Fates decided to pair you together...” Magnus cut in. He didn’t actually give either one of them a chance to respond, despite the contrite looks they offered in unison. His fingertips glowed blue, and then Jace’s side as a whole did through his sweatshirt. 

Alec didn’t miss the way his own still healing injuries tingled, and assumed his boyfriend was doing double-duty simply because he could. He watched as Magnus cocked his head to the side, the glamour of his eyes flashing for a split second before he refocused his efforts on one area of Jace in particular. “Find something?” he guessed.

The magic blinked out and Magnus waved a hand at the tattered hoodie. “Unzip that, will you?” he asked distractedly. 

Jace did as requested, never having a problem undressing in front of others, and Alec tried not to notice the way Clary hid an appreciative look before she glanced away. He couldn’t begrudge her and Jace’s relationship without doing the same for his own with Magnus. When Jace was actually injured, blood and gore everywhere, Clary barely batted an eye before she did her best to help. Only when it was safe, only when it was more than a little expected, did she dare to flirt, and even then it was mild in comparison to what Magnus pulled with him.

Speaking of Magnus, the blue glow of his magic had returned, this time focused over an area of Jace’s side that was still a fairly angry red, despite the time that had passed. He wriggled his fingers, and a small almost needle-like bit of black poked through the red. Jace gasped, and Alec could feel the sharp stab of pain of it through their still incredibly raw bond. It was only for a moment though, before Jace yanked the sliver out the rest of the way himself and held it up to stare at it in accusation.

Another wash of blue, and the wound began to seal itself, the pain ebbing away to a dull ache. “Part of one of the barbs snapped off the hovath’s stinger,” Magnus explained. “Small enough to be easily missed, but coated with enough toxin to delay the healing. Your body would have taken care of it on its own, but this will at least speed up the process.”

“Thank you,” Jace said sincerely. “For everything.”

“I’d say that you are welcome, but the vast majority of this is squarely on your shoulders,” Magnus replied archly.

Jace just shrugged as though that was fair before he asked, “So do I need to stay here to do penance, or am I allowed to pass out in my own bed while Alec passes out in yours?”

Alec replied before Magnus could, even though it warmed him a little inside that even Jace knew he would do better in his non-Institute room for the evening versus the place he called home for so long. “Oh, there’s going to be penance,” he assured him. “Someone needs to teach Underwood how to clean the blades without cutting his fingers off and, seeing how you’re not field ready right now, you’re the perfect candidate.”

Jace’s jaw dropped and he could feel the wave of disbelief roll off of him. “You are not putting me on ichor duty,” he protested. He must have felt Alec’s resolve, or simply saw it in his eyes. “But I’m your parabatai! Part of your top team! I am so-”

“Guilty of breaking multiple Clave rules with the purchase of your little charm? Not to mention hiding valuable information about elicit magic and injuries from the Head of the Institute?” Alec finished for him.

Jace scrunched up his face in a pout. “I’m not getting out of this, am I?”

He could feel the tiniest of inklings of an idea and so he shut that down instead of answering. “You’re also not allowed to actually harm Underwood. No accidental slices, no dropping things on him or near him in a way that will explode, no injuries,” he said. Then, because he could, he added, “Feel free to explain to him why you’re there though. Maybe knowing the same rules apply to everyone might actually get through to him.”

“I hate you a little,” Jace said without heat.

“Not as much as when I point out that your girlfriend just finished off one of Magnus’ special creations and now you have to deal with a drunk Clary on top of all the slime in the morning,” Alec replied. In truth, he wasn’t sure if she had only one, or if Magnus had refilled the thing the way he tended to. A wink from her though showed she’d play it up if required.

“It was nummy,” she said, causing her boyfriend to mouth the final word as though it were a curse.

“I can make you another one easily enough,” Magnus offered with a gleam in his eyes. He raised his hand as though to snap his fingers, but paused just long enough to see if anyone would stop him. When no one immediately did, he played it up with, “I’m portalling you back anyway. Surely you can either find your way back from Alexander’s office or sleep it off on the couch in there?”

Clary held up the glass with a shrug, but Jace finally protested, “I’m sure it was delicious, but I think you might honestly have less tolerance than Alec, and I didn’t think that was possible.” Alec bit back a response, mainly because it would point out his tolerance had grown quite a bit in the past few months, but also it would give the game away that Clary could hold her own. Instead, he let Jace half-beg and half-whine, “Are we free to go yet?”

Alec pretended to think about it, during which time Jace turned to him to wait for the inevitable answer. This meant he missed the way Magnus pinched his fingers about an inch or so apart and Clary nodded readily enough. The glass refilled to that exact amount and she grinned widely. 

“Since it’s already past eleven and you have to get up early to deal with Underwood tomorrow, I guess that’s enough for now,” he relented. He let Jace breathe out a sigh of relief before he added, “But this discussion is not actually over and you still won’t be approved for the field until Magnus himself checks you out and I’m happy with the results.”

The pout was back, as was an eye roll. Jace pushed himself up to stand though, only to furrow his brow when Clary set the now once again empty glass back down on the table and licked her lips. Another eye roll, this time at her antics, and he leaned down to give his parabatai a rather gentle hug goodbye. “Don’t push yourself, we can handle things including the new recruits for a few days if you need the time,” he whispered. He straightened himself back to standing and added, louder now, “Make sure Magnus checks you out, too. Just, you know, don’t tell me the details of that checking.”

Jace took Clary’s offered hand and winked over his shoulder before he stepped through the portal that now waited for them. Alec watched them disappear and even watched as the portal blinked out, fearing where his mind may wander now that his parabatai was not around to give his mind something to focus on, even if that focus was frustration based.

He tried his best to sink down into the cushions, but Magnus watched him with a knowing eye. “Did you want to go to bed, or did you need another distraction?” he asked. Alec had to give him credit, he even kept most of the innuendo out of his voice.

A jaw popping yawn answered that question for him, whether he intended it to or not. He let Magnus pull him to his feet and vanquish the dirty glasses with barely a thought and assumed the couch would be cleaned or replaced by morning. He found himself led to bed, the covers already folded down and waiting for him. He yanked off the sweater knowing he’d be too warm even if the action made him shiver a little. A snap of his fingers, and Magnus was dressed and washed for bed as well, clearly still of the mindset he was not to be left alone, at least not for long. Alec just had to decide if he appreciated it or not.

He laid down and let Magnus snuggle close beneath the soft comforter, his arm around his middle an anchoring presence. The lights blinked out and Alec tried to steady his breathing, hoped to fake sleep on the off chance he fooled even himself. It was not five minutes later though, that he heard a whispered voice say, “There is no magical cure for this, even with the charm destroyed.”

“Because this is about far more than Jace’s stupid rock?” he guessed.

He felt more than heard Magnus’ confirmation. “It will get better though,” his boyfriend promised. 

“How?” he asked, and cursed himself for his weakness.

Magnus simply kissed the nape of his neck and said, “With realizing when you need help, and actually letting others know when you need that help. With knowing there will be bad days mixed in with the good. Most importantly, and likely something you will have little patience for, time. Quite a bit of it, I’m sorry to say. Sorrier still to let you know that you will be stuck with me for the duration.”

Alec sighed. He was right, he didn’t like that last part at all. Well, the time part, not the Magnus being there for him part. They lived in a world with magic and demons and he wanted, no needed, a better solution than that. Then again, that magic could do wondrous things for some and dictate truly horrible fates for others. Maybe time really was needed to allow him to figure out what was what, to trust himself again versus a miraculous solution. He cleared his throat and willed himself to have the courage to ask, “Even when I... Even...” 

His words were lost, and he feared it was because he couldn’t admit to himself how much help he might need. He had barely learned to recognize it, let alone pay attention to it. Yet another instance where time would probably play a role.

Magnus seemed to have an innate knowledge of when to push and when to let things go and maybe even when to lighten the mood a little. When Alec faltered, he offered, “Yes, even when your idiot parabatai makes a bad situation worse and we have to clean up the pieces.”

Alec huffed because it was expected, and also because he kind of wanted to. He willed himself to relax back against his literal support system and decided to go with the change in mood offered. “Just how drunk is that parabatai’s girlfriend in retaliation anyway?” he questioned. Clary still had newbies to train the next day, and shouldn’t have to suffer just because she made bad choices when it came to relationships.

“Her drinks were as virgin as you were when we met,” Magnus promised. 

This time the huff of laughter came a little bit easier. He closed his eyes and found his mind slowing enough that he might actually be able to sleep, the mantra of the last few days fading into near silence. He wasn’t sure if it was Magnus’ supernatural abilities, or a magic of a different sort. He did, however, want to make sure he said something before he passed out completely. “Thank you. For Clary and Jace and, well, just being there. Thank you.”

Magnus pressed his lips against the nape of his neck again and whispered, “Thank you for letting me be.”


End file.
